I've looked deep in the eyes of madness to whisper.

"Do you know me?"

Only to run with my ears covered so that I don't hear the response.

I've hidden deep in the world

with pitched laughter and aching sighs serving as shields.

I've hidden in packed classrooms and open fields.

Breath overrode by the jostle of arms on staircases.

I've hidden with a drink in hand, a cloaking device made liquid to hide heart and soul from myself.

I've hidden memories of eagerly stomping the bright sparks of new dreams with the black-crested boot of worry.

I write with the absent heart of a cynical lover, hoping that they'll find redemption without ever summoning the courage to kneel.

I chain heavy stories like beasts in a cellar. Offering the world lighter ones- knowing they can't hear the snarl and scratch of shackled truths.

I deliver whimsy with sharp breath and bright eyes.

And now I seek to know if I've wagered creative sin. To suck the air from the tender lungs of a sweet curiosity.

I ask with hands clasped- for a second, third, and fourth chance.

Head bowed- knowing a shame for fearing to know all of myself and offer that to the world. So that we may know each other- as brave souls are wont to do.

So I step back to the front- and gaze deeply into madness and wonder.

And they say

"Yes. We know you."